


Another Day at the Office

by mific



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bureaucracy, Fanfiction, Guardian Angels, Humor, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:56:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mific/pseuds/mific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or is it? Things get lively for John and Meredith when some angelic pencil-pusher botches their transfer paperwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Day at the Office

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [ART - Warrior Angels](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449911) by [Tarlan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan). 



> Notes: I got bunnied by Tarlan's dramatic artwork. The story started out cracky but it went its own way and insisted on developing plot, even some drama.  
> An alternative title might be "fun with acronyms". Contains references to Christian and other mythologies—no offence intended.

 

"In the name of the–" Guardian Meredith said sourly. "They've sent us to Hoth!"

"You gotta cool it with the Earth pop culture references, Mer," Guardian John said, extricating himself from a deep snowdrift that had banked up against the Portal. The kawoosh had disintegrated the top foot or so of the drift, but he was still left wading through snow almost up to his knees. "The higher-ups are gonna think you've been hanging out with Crowley."

"At least Crowley wasn't a _moron_ , even if he was a total bastard," Mer said, peering out at the sea of glistening white mountains and cloud-filled valleys stretching all around them.

Behind John, the Portal winked out. He shook snow off his boots, grimacing. "He's working for the Opposition, though, which the IOA tend to frown on."

The Immaculate Order of Archangels or IOA were the bane of their lives. Well, no, strictly speaking, that was the Opposition, but the IOA didn't make it any easier for Guardians to do their damn jobs—micromanaging bureaucrats, the lot of them. John wished they'd use some of their near-infinite power and knowledge to keep track of what was happening in the mortal realm, where John and Mer battled the forces of darkness every day. But no—they were above all that and only deigned to interact through the endless reports and forms Guardians were required to complete. Requisitions, expense accounts, and of course, the euphemism-laden AAARs—After Angelic-Action Reports. Lucifer had invented a ton of minor regulations and procedures before he defected, and the IOA were still trying to weed out which parts were necessary and which were his cunning ploys, aimed at slowing Guardians like John and Mer down with diabolically tedious paperwork.

The snow was melting in John's boots due to his high core temperature, making his socks squelch as he walked. All Guardians ran hot, from harnessing Zero-Point Miracle energy. He wished he could dry his feet with a small burst of it but the Code was clear: 'Guardians shall not deploy special powers solely for personal gain or comfort'.

"Well, _I_ can't see any evildoers," Mer said testily, slicing the top off a snowdrift with his glowing sword. "Nothing but mountains and snow. Why'd they send us here?"

John stepped out of range. "Watch what you're doing with that blade, Mer. If there's another accidental beheading you're on your own—I'm not cleaning up the mess a second time. It took forever to get all that blood back into the bishop."

"Oh, like I'm going to behead anything way up here. It's a spiritual wasteland—you must have mis-dialed."

"Look, there's gotta be something evil here _somewhere_ ," John retorted. Mer was always going on about him getting lost, which had been _one time!_   Jeez. "Run a scan, will you?"

"Yes, yes, I've been doing that since we got here. It's not a small planet, you know."

Mer had enhanced scanning abilities. When you tapped into the ZPM it was something of a lottery. Some Guardians got super-strength, some got enhanced vision or hearing. Mer had miraculous technological powers and long-range ethereal scanning for dark energy. They made a good team, what with John's battle enhancements and supernatural aerodynamics. He wouldn’t swap those with anyone, not even Guardian Beckett's ability to rewrite DNA and heal the sick, or Guardian O'Neill's exceptional luck and preternatural ability to attract desserts. People were always offering O'Neill pie, looking slightly baffled as if unsure why they were doing so. When it came to tasty treats, John was pretty sure O'Neill tweaked the rules about not using your powers for personal gain. They all cheated a little, in their own ways. You had to, so as to get through the day and take down a few bad guys without being completely hamstrung by the regulations.

Mer turned in a slow circle, his blue eyes shining with miraculous Light as he scanned. It always gave John a thrill when Mer lit up like that, so he watched the show and waited.

"Right. Got it." Mer pointed to one part of the snowy, cloud-filled horizon that looked just like all the rest. "Bunch of evildoers, chasing a mortal. Well, the evildoers are semi-mortal, just really long-lived, as they drain the life-force out of humans."

"Great," John said, disgusted. "Vampires, my favorite."

"No, not really. They're not like anything we've seen before," Mer said, frowning. "Anyway, we'd better get cracking before they catch the guy they're chasing. He's got some kind of cursed technology in him that they're following."

John nodded. Mer was a genius at detecting dark tech. John himself could operate anything angelic. Heavenly weapons, any ancient gewgaw that'd ever been blessed or worked a wonder—it all glowed for him.

"Can I, you know, hitch a ride?" Mer asked hopefully.

"You've got perfectly serviceable wings, Mer. The practice'd do you good." Mer flushed as John ran his gaze up and down his body. Truth be told, which John was mostly duty-bound to do, he liked Mer's chunky form.

"You're the one with the miraculous aerodynamics. I seem to drift off course."

John pretended to capitulate. "Yeah, okay, you can owe me one. C'mere, then." Mer folded his wings, miniaturised his sword and stuck it through the breast of his shirt like a tie-pin, and wrapped his arms around John's neck, tucking his head into the crook of John's shoulder. John put his arms around Mer's solid form, opened his wings wide and leapt into the void, speeding across the clear blue skies in the direction Mer had indicated. He wasn't ever going to say it out loud, but he liked holding Mer like this, and Mer liked it, too. Anyway, John could fly carrying three or four people without breaking a sweat—not that he ever actually sweated—so this was no stretch.

They flew for some time, John enjoying the view, high above the clouds. They didn't feel the cold—they hadn't ever felt cold since ascending to the heavenly plane and tapping into the ZPM. Mer gave a sigh of contentment and shifted against him, and John tightened his arms a little.

It happened sometimes, with partnered Guardians. Against the fraternization rules, of course, but people turned a blind eye. Love was love, and you couldn't have too much of it, not when you were waging war against the dark side. Not like they had anything gross like genitals or bodily fluids, anyway. It was enough to hold Mer and kiss him, and if they sometimes got a little translucent and glowy in the heat of the moment, no one else needed to know.

"Down there." Mer pointed, twisting in John's arms to peer ahead. John brought them down through scudding clouds into a sunlit valley beside a lake, filled with the ruins of a long-dead mortal city. John picked up the life signs immediately—several dark signals unlike anything he recognized, and one faint trace typical of a mortal. The guy must be exhausted, maybe close to death.

"Ready?" John asked, and Mer nodded, letting go of John and unfurling his wings as he dropped away, sword back in his hand, glowing blue. They fell on the life-suckers and laid about them, decapitating all seven of them in short order.

John alighted on the grass and slid his sword into the earth to clean the ichor from it. Mer joined him, slightly less gracefully, and followed suit. "Revolting things," Mer said, shaking himself fastidiously. "Eugh. Did you see those slits in their hands? That's how they feed."

"Kind of weird we haven't run into them before," John said, looking around. "Where's the guy they were chasing?"

Mer set off toward some trees beyond the ruins. "The signal's this way."

They found the mortal collapsed behind a fallen log, a gun in his hand. Mer crouched over him. "Some kind of energy weapon." He passed it up to John, who examined it with interest. Mer frowned. "The tech that's sending the signal is in his back." He looked up at John. "It's close to his spine. He's pretty weak, probably half-starved and dehydrated. I wish we had Beckett."

John passed over his canteen of holy water. "Give him some of this."

"Okay, let me just . . ." Mer passed his hand over the man's back, between his shoulder-blades. "Right. I've switched off the transmitter, but it's dark matter, bad for him. It should really be taken out." He held the canteen to the man's lips and when he was still unresponsive, poured a little into his mouth and held it closed until some trickled down his throat.

There was a pause, then the guy coughed and spluttered, and two wary brown eyes opened and flicked from Mer to John, narrowing as he saw the gun in John's hand. "You should have some more of th–" Mer said, raising the canteen again, but the guy pushed it away and surged up, grabbing for the blaster.

"Yeah, I don't think so. Not until we're better acquainted," John said, rematerializing a couple of feet away. "I'm John and this is Mer. Calm down—the things that were chasing you are dead." He flourished his sword meaningfully.

"What are you?" the guy asked, staring at them suspiciously. "Why've you got . . ." he waved a hand at Mer's wings, which had flicked out to steady him when the guy leaped up.

"We're Guardians," Mer said. "Don't you have Guardians here?"

"You mean like Defenders? Never seen any with wings."

"Anyway, what's your name, mortal?" Mer asked, folding his wings again. John winced. It wasn't very diplomatic to mention human beings' mortal status, but Mer didn't have a lot of tact. He also didn't have any trouble telling the absolute truth at all times, just like the rules said, no matter what the consequences were.

"Specialist Ronon Dex." The guy—Dex—narrowed his eyes at the blaster. "I'd like my gun back."

"Yeah, in a minute," John said. "Tell us about yourself—about all this." He gestured at the ruins, the seven headless life-suckers lying in crumpled heaps.

"Wraith. They made me a Runner. Put a thing in my back to track me that calls them. You should take off—be more of 'em here any time."

"Wraiths?" Mer peered at the nearest decapitated monster. "They don't look particularly incorporeal."

Dex frowned at him. "Floaty," John translated. "Wraith means like a ghost."

"Nah, they're _called_ Wraith, but they're real. They die like anything else, only it takes more to kill them." He nodded at the gun. "Why I want my blaster back. It works pretty well."

"How long've you been running from them?" John asked.

"Dunno. 'bout seven years, I think. You lose count."

John saw Mer's eyes widen. "Seven _years_ of being chased? Why do they want you so badly?"

"It's a game, to them. Mostly they wanted me 'cause they hadn't caught me for seven years. Pissed them off."

"I can see how it would," John said. He handed over the blaster. "Well, they won't be chasing you any more. Mer killed the tracker for you. He's good with tech."

"It's not broadcasting," Mer added quickly. "But it's still in there and it should really come out, if we had a healer to do it. It's close to your spine, and it's made of dark matter the same as those Wraith things. Unnatural."

Dex gaped at Mer. "You killed it?" He stepped forward and caught Mer up in a bear-hug, crushing Mer's face into his chest. Mer made muffled noises of protest and waved his arms ineffectually. John grinned. Mer could have freed himself easily if he'd wanted, so the flailing was all for show.

"–ut me down this–" spluttered Mer as Dex released him. "Oh dear God, you badly need a Cleansing, and now, so do I."

There was a sonic boom from beyond the lake, and all their heads snapped up. A small dark figure rushed toward them high in the air, shimmering faintly and growing rapidly in size.

"Guardian," John said, relaxing a little. He'd thought it might be a demon for a second, but the aura of Light from the approaching flier reassured him.

A small woman, auburn hair swirling around her, came to a halt in mid-air. She was wingless and carried, in each hand, a three-foot stick wreathed in blue fire. Huh—that was new. She inspected the three of them and the scattering of dead Wraith, then descended, landing gracefully. The blue flames faded, leaving her holding two nicely carved wooden rods.

"I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan and Defender of Athos. And you are?" Her tone was polite, but brooked no argument.

John nodded pleasantly. "This is Specialist Ronon Dex; we just met. The bad guys were chasing him, so we killed them. I'm Guardian John Sheppard, and this is my fellow Guardian Meredith McKay. We're mostly from Earth, but we get around."

"I'm a Runner," Dex said gruffly. "These two say they did something to the tracker, stopped it signalling." He looked up at the clouds, scowling. "More Wraith're probably coming, though."

"Yeah, about those Wraith things," John said. "We haven't run into them before. Care to tell us more?"

Teyla Emmagan frowned. "You come from a place that does not know the Wraith? You should return there."

"Er, yes, about that . . ." Mer said, making a face. "John, I didn't get a chance to say up until now, but I've been analyzing the etheric fields here, and you know that transfer we asked for, to the Pegasus sphere of operations?" John lifted an eyebrow. "Yes, well, I think it came through." Mer lifted his hands in exasperation. "I know, I know. It's a giant bureaucratic cock-up. We were supposed to be notified before it was actioned, but clearly some pea-brained beatific pencil-pusher messed up and didn't process the forms."

"This is _Pegasus_?" John stared around. It didn't look any different from North America, now they were down below the snowline, but those Wraith things were new, and he'd never seen wingless Guardians before—or Defenders, whatever they called them here. "Huh. So, what—you said you were from Athos? Is that where we are?"

Teyla inclined her head. "Yes, and my people, the Athosians, are in grave danger. The Wraith appear to have marked this world as a hunting preserve. They took the Ring of the Ancestors and moved it to a mountain-top, where my people cannot use it to escape should there be a culling."

Dex nodded. "Beamed me in. They finally caught me when I went back to my home world, Sateda, to see if anyone was left. No one was." He looked down for a moment and took a deep breath, then continued, his voice bitter. "Guess they wanted more fun and games, so they dropped me off here to run again. If we can't get at the Ring, though, maybe it's some sort of endgame."

"They've got beaming technology?" Mer perked up. "Interesting."

Teyla gave him a scathing glance. "Not if you are a mortal swept up in the beam, to awaken, if at all, encased in foul webbing in a Hive-ship feeding-cell, about to be fed upon."

Mer winced. "A 'Hive' ship? That sounds worryingly insectile."

"They are not fully human," Teyla said. "Unnatural creations, part mortal and part dark creature. Hive ships are giant vessels carrying many thousands of Wraith through the void, to drain mortal lives on world after world."

"Okay," John said, "so these Wraith things are bad news. How do we defeat them?"

Teyla looked downcast. "We need aid from the Ancestors, but they all ascended millennia ago, leaving only a few scattered Defenders like myself. My people pray and offer worship, but the Ancestors have not intervened."

Typical higher-ups, John thought. Floating around on a higher plane playing power politics with the Opposition and totally out of touch with the common folk. Half of them didn't even agree with the existence of the Spiritual Guardian Corps and didn't think there should be any intervention in the affairs of mortals by either side, in case it tipped the balance and led to Armageddon. "Yeah, reckon we're better off tackling it ourselves, not waiting around for those guys," he said. "We need more fighters, though."

"What we _need_ ," Mer put in, his eyes blazing, "is the _City_." He folded his arms and put his chin up. "It's why we came—well, why _I_ came, anyway. You just wanted a change of scene."

"Hey," John protested. "I like exploring. Nothing wrong with that." He rubbed his jaw. "And look, Mer, I know Daniel's got a thing about it, but the Celestial City's pretty much of a myth." Daniel had been around since Biblical times, and _he_ still hadn't tracked the damn thing down. But then, Daniel was easily distracted and kind of ambivalent about being a Guardian these days. He kept going all glowy and then changing his mind and turning up again. No wonder O'Neill had to resort to pie.

"The Ancestral City?" Teyla asked. "We have those legends as well. It is said to have sunk beneath the sea, forever lost."

"Thus giving rise to the Atlantis legends, yes," Mer said, nodding.

"It flew through space, my people used to say," Dex put in. "Killed a bunch of Wraith, as well. Must've had heavy-duty weaponry."

"My point exactly," Mer said, his eyes gleaming a hot blue. "Enough to take out a Hive ship."

John regarded him fondly. "Yeah, okay, Tiger, but like I said, in the short-term, we need more fighters." He turned to Ronon. "What d'you say, big guy? Want to come on board?"

"You're just going to enlist him on the spot?" Mer sounded mildly scandalized. He wasn't quite the rule-breaker John was, not unless the regs got in the way of his studies, and then he was the first to chuck the Universal Code of Miraculous Justice out the window.

John shrugged. "Why not? We've got a trinity." It took three Guardians working in concert for the greater miraculous feats like creating a new Guardian. "SG1 have done it a bunch of times, like with Teal'c and Jonas." Spiritual Guardian teams were—in the best bureaucratic tradition—numbered. John and Mer had been on SG4 but their frankly useless teammates Babbis and Wallace had been transferred after Mer had threatened to have another "accident" with his sword if he laid eyes on either one of them again. It felt good to be well rid of the idiots, starting afresh in a whole new galaxy, but they did need a team.

"I have heard tell of this, but have not seen it done," Teyla said, interested.

Ronon had been staring intently at John. "You can make me a Defender? To fight the Wraith?"

"Well, yeah, and any other evil guys around," John said. "The usual suspects, you know. Demons, ghouls, private car clampers."

Mer snorted. "Like he's going to get _that_ reference."

"Yeah," Ronon said. "I'm in." John grinned and slapped him on the back. He had a good feeling about this.

"Oh, wait, but we don't have all the NDAs and recruitment forms," Mer said, dismayed.

John sighed. "Look, Mer, it's an emergency, right? I mean, those Wraith things are nasty pieces of work, and Ronon here says more could show up any time. 'sides, bringing him on board'll fix that problem he's got with the cursed tech in his back. The IOA'll understand."

"That bunch of mealy-mouthed functionaries? I doubt it."

"Well, O'Neill will, and that's what really matters." He turned to the others. "Okay, so what we gotta do is get around Ronon here like we're the points of a triangle with our swords out and touching him—one of your sticks'll do, Defender Emmagan."

"Please, call me Teyla. It will be stronger if I hold both bantos together."

John nodded and they arranged themselves, arms outstretched so their weapons just touched Ronon. John made sure no one was too close to the dark matter in his back because they didn't want the damn thing to outright explode, just to dissolve. "Right," he said when they were positioned to his liking. Just tap into the ZPM now."

"Into what?" Teyla asked. "I do not know this term."

"The Zero-Point Miracle," Mer explained. "It's what makes you fly."

Teyla nodded. "Ah, the Potentia, yes of course."

"On my count then," John said. "One . . . two . . . _three."_

Ronon gasped and stiffened, and boy, did John remember _that_ feeling. Best thing ever. Their swords, and Teyla's bantos, were glowing bright blue, as were Mer's eyes. John loved that about him—it was like Mer's whole brain was wired into the Light. A blue glow surrounded Ronon, pulsing brighter and brighter. John was beside and slightly behind him, and he saw the glow pool between his shoulder-blades and flash brightly before ebbing away, draining back from Dex's body into their weapons, which glowed hotly for a few more moments, then subsided.

John smirked at Ronon. "The Force be with you, Padawan Dex."

"He's not going to get _that_ reference, either," Mer said, but he was grinning.

Teyla was flushed and beaming. "That was most edifying, and very invigorating."

"Now for the fun part," John said.

Mer rolled his eyes. "You always hope they're going to get enhanced surfing abilities, or maybe skateboarding." He eyed Ronon curiously. "No wings, again. Must be a Pegasus thing."

"Let's see what you got, buddy," John said to Ronon, who was looking less dazed. "You know," he added encouragingly. "In the special powers department."

Ronon smirked and sprinted down to the lake and back. Man, he was fast and when he slid to a stop back in front of them, he wasn't even breathing hard. "So you're super-fast, nice one. Guess we should've predicted that, what with all your practice as a Runner."

Ronon lifted a sardonic brow, then grinned and tilted his head at the sky. "Race you."

"Oh, you are _on_ ," and they were off, zooming high above the ruins, swooping and diving, Ronon laughing delightedly, in a way John figured he hadn't done in years, his big leather duster coat flaring out around him. The guy was fast in the air, as well. Not as controlled as John, but pretty damn good for a test flight.

They landed, and Ronon drew the sword from his shoulder-scabbard. It was strangely shaped, almost eldritch in design, and it rippled with blue fire, just like Teyla's bantos sticks. Ronon grinned at it. "Cool."

Mer suddenly raised a hand, staring up at the sky. "Wait, wait, I just picked up something . . . dark as Hell, and oh my God it's _huge_ , and it's right up above us." He was pale, his upturned face stricken. "So _many_ of them, and they're so _hungry_ . . ."

" _Wraith,"_ Teyla said, her voice thick with disgust. "Oh, Ancestors, it is a Hive ship. A culling."

Ronon snarled. "Kill them all."

"Yeah, yeah, all in good time," John said, pushing his senses out as best he could. He could feel it now, not as well as Mer, but as a looming evil overhead.

Teyla gasped, and two elongated, spiky aircraft radiating darkness shot overhead, on course from the Portal in the mountains and headed for the other side of the lake. "My people!" she cried. She pressed both hands to her head, concentrating. "Most are in the caverns, where they will be safe for a time until supplies run low. But the Wraith have taken . . . oh, no, no, they have Halling, and Toran, and four others." Her face was bleak.

Ronon glared after the darts. "We can fly up, take the darts down." He brandished his sword, blue fire flashing. "Bet they can't fly with their snouts sliced off."

"No, Ronon," Teyla said urgently, a hand on his arm. "We do not know which dart took up my people, and if we destroy it, the souls they have culled will be lost as well."

"Still," Mer said, gazing up, his look of stunned horror replaced by one of concentration, "maybe we _can_ so something with those—what did you call them? Darts?" Teyla nodded. "Right, the darts. They use beaming technology."

Teyla's mouth tightened. "It is how the Wraith cull."

"Well, obviously we have to get up to that monstrous . . . Hive behemoth . . ." He flicked a hand at the clouds. "Not that I _want_ to be anywhere near the horrible cursed thing, but, I mean . . ." Mer looked over at John, his eyes wide, mouth an unhappy slant.

"Yeah, buddy," John said, squeezing his shoulder. "It's what we do."

Mer swallowed, and nodded. "So we hitch a ride. Easiest way to get there."

"Let them cull us?" Teyla frowned. "But we are so few, and they are . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, _legion,_ yadda yadda," Mer said. "Believe me, I can feel them swarming. But there're four of us, and even though it's foul and alien . . ."

John got it. "The systems on the Hive. It's still tech?"

"Yes. I can manipulate it, or at least figure it out."

John nodded. "It's a plan." He looked at Teyla and Ronon. "You guys in?"

"I am with you," Teyla said. "I cannot let them take my people, and if there is any way to prevent a full-scale culling, we must act."

Ronon just bared his teeth at John. "Payback."

"Okay," John said. "And here comes our ride, right on time."

As the dart's shrill whine rose in pitch John thought of something, and glanced at Mer. "Hey. With us not being . . . y'know, fully _corporeal_ and all that, what's gonna happen when we're dematerialized by the beam?"

"I've got _no_ fucking clue," Mer said, grinning wildly back at him.

Then everything went white.

**

It was bad. John had known it was going to be terrible, but it was worse than he'd imagined. At least the beaming hadn't screwed them up, although the Athosians were still out for the count. John groaned, down on all fours, battling nausea. Even though they'd regained consciousness almost immediately, they were all overwhelmed by the evil wrongness of the Hive. Of course the bastards were telepaths, so the ether was full of their foul minds, and John was battered by waves of hunger and pride and cruelty. Then there was the stench.

Across from John, Teyla moaned and clutched her head, badly affected. She seemed to have a special connection, more able to sense the Wraith than most, and she was paying for it now. Mer was throwing up in a corner, well, dry retching, because it wasn't like they ate food any more. Ronon moved clumsily, but he was up on his feet, the tough fucker, drawing his sword and scowling at the organic-looking mesh trapping them in this alcove. He swayed on his feet, then raised his sword with both hands and sliced a glowing blue path down through the sticky strands, which peeled back as though trying to get away from the sacred fire of his blade.

"Right, so that works," John said, stumbling over to Mer as Ronon slashed more of the mesh away. "Buddy, you okay?"

"No," Mer said in a pitiful voice. "But I'll have to be." He clutched at John's shoulder. "Just, I have to open myself up to it, to sense the tech and follow it." His face twisted and he shuddered. "There are mortals here, John. Alive and trapped in this ghastly webbing, waiting to be fed on."

"Oh, man." John shook his head. "How many?"

"I can't . . . maybe fifty or so?"

" _Fuck._ We gotta find a way to blow this thing, but we can't leave them here." Too many for him to carry, especially with the need to shield each mortal from space. Too many even for the four of them, what with Teyla's people as well. He squeezed Mer's arm. "You follow the tech and figure out how we can mess up the Hive, and I'll work on a rescue." Rodney nodded, and closed his eyes, brow furrowed in distress.

John made his way over to Teyla, noting that somehow, he was acclimating, even to this. He was steadier, stronger, his head clearing. She looked a little better as well, and Ronon had cleared a large hole in the imprisoning mesh and was peering out into the passageway, or cavity, or what the hell ever it was in this monstrosity. Talk about Moby Dick.

He beckoned Ronon back and leaned in close to Teyla. "Mer says there are people on board. Trapped, but they're still alive."

Teyla inclined her head. "In the Wraith feeding chambers, waiting to be drained."

"Yeah," John said. "So we gotta get them out and take 'em with us."

Teyla and Ronon glanced at each other, then frowned at him, looking like they thought he was crazy. Teyla spoke. "John, no one escapes a Hive. Even if we have some small chance of damaging the ship with Meredith's help, we will most likely not survive, either. I am prepared for this."

Ronon showed his teeth. "Take as many of them with me as I can."

"Yeah, see, we need a better plan than that, big guy. No disrespect, but you haven't been tapped into the ZPM all that long so don't blow your wad on the first mission. Teyla, you've been pretty isolated out here in Pegasus, handling this shit all alone, with no back-up. Besides, you don't know Mer."

Hearing his name mentioned, Mer made his way over. He was still deathly pale, but John was glad to see some Light glimmering in his eyes again. "I found it," he said. "The power core. Slow fusion, tapped into the dark side."

John shot Teyla and Ronon a slightly smug glance. Mer always came through. "So can we blow it?"

"Oh, yeah. It's burning dark matter. We just have to get the Light in contact with it and the whole thing'll go up like a supernova. We need to throw a concentrated source of the Light into the reactor core."

John swallowed. To be fused with darkness until the end of time. He hadn't figured on a long career as a Guardian—just a few millennia, maybe. It was risky work, but generally, once your time was done you got to rest in the Light for all eternity. This was the opposite of how he'd thought he'd go. No choice, though. There were only four concentrated sources of the Light up here—the Guardians—and he couldn't ask anyone else to . . . "I'll do it," he said, his voice shaky.

"What?" Mer blinked at him, then flushed darkly and poked John in the chest. "Oh, you self-sacrificing moron. Not you. Not _any_ of us." He glared at John. "We'll throw your flask of holy water into the damn thing. That'll do it."

"Oh, right," John said, feeling a bit sheepish. Teyla looked quizzical and Ronon was distinctly amused, the disrespectful whipper-snapper. John cleared his throat and pulled himself together. "So this is what we're gonna do."

**

There hadn't been as many Wraith in the tunnels as he'd feared, so maybe Teyla was right and they were mostly hibernating, or in stasis or something. John lurked behind a bad-smelling pillar and let a couple of big drones go by—Ronon had said that was what the Wraith with the weird face-masks were called. He shook his head. Imagine being up here if the whole Hive woke up. They'd be lost, for sure. So no doing that—a clean kill, take all the suckers out in one hit. It was more than the bastards deserved, but that sort of vengeance was for the higher-ups to worry about, way past John's pay-grade.

Mer and Ronon were rescuing the trapped mortals in the feeding chambers, while Teyla guarded the Athosians. They'd bring everyone back to the alcove and the three of them would shield them all while John blew the reactor. Mer said he'd have five minutes, no more, after throwing the canteen into the power core, before dark matter ate through the metal of the canteen and the whole thing went kablooie. Ronon might be a little faster, but he was new to all this, and John wasn't going to delegate something this crucial. He was plenty fast enough to make it back to the shield before the Hive exploded.

Ordinary shielding wouldn't have cut it, of course, but they had enough Guardians now to do it properly. Mer, Teyla and Ronon would make a trinity again and throw up a super-shield, tapping directly into the Light. Nothing bad could get through that.

John just had to follow Mer's directions and do his bit. They'd had another row about that part, of course, with Mer wanting to be the one dealing with the reactor and then dashing back to safety while John helped Ronon free the mortals. Yeah, right. John could find his way, although the twisty corridors—body cavities, whatever—made it damned tricky. He could _feel_ the darkness, though, feel it pulsing. Not as clearly as Mer, but well enough to know he was on track.

He crept along another straight section, then hid from a Wraith warrior down a side-tunnel. The reactor was a dark hole in his mind, sucking all that was good and right out of the world. This was why he hadn't let Mer come—Mer would have been overwhelmed, with his sensitivity to tech, especially cursed tech like this.

Not far now, and then he was there, out on something horribly like a rib, jutting over a terrible dark void in the bowels of the ship, an evil black hole like a giant feeding maw. It was what made the Wraith what they were, the engine driving their life-force hunger. It was insatiable, fueled by dark energy.

He staggered, and went down on one knee. _Don't think. Block it out._ He grabbed for the canteen, unclipping it from his belt with shaking fingers. It fell from his hands onto the unpleasantly soft surface of jutting flesh he was standing on, and he forced himself upright, then kicked it out into the void, watching it arc down and vanish. Five minutes. John turned and ran.

He ran full tilt, not bothering with stealth. No Wraith at first, then he came on a drone, and dispatched it, his sword blue-limned, trailing glowing streamers as he ran. Two entrail-like corridor twists later and he downed another drone, then a warrior, then burst into a long room with a central table that he remembered. It had been empty last time. It wasn't empty now.

"Yesss. Sso much life-force, but different. What are you?" she hissed at him, sibilants snarling from her mouth, which was ringed with lamprey-teeth. "Where iss your home?"

He circled her as she clawed at him, the obscene mouth in her palm gaping wide. She was strong, a Queen, pushing her mind into his, filled with power and lust, and he faltered and fell to his knees. Through the sticky surface, he felt a faint tremor in the body of the Hive.

"What have you done?" she rasped. "Do not resist me, for I will have it all!"

John gasped as she bent over him, her hand inches from his chest. He dragged his sword up, but not for a sweeping blow; he had too little will left for that. Getting both hands on the hilt he forced his muscles to obey him, kneeling tall. The glowing blade slid in beneath her ribs and he twisted it, skewering her.

"Fool," she croaked, fallen back, writhing on the floor as black blood bubbled from her mouth and from her wound. "In killing me you have woken them all, and this Hive contains multitudes. We will fall on you from on high, we will–"

"Yeah, not for long," John said, and he raised his sword and cut her head off.

He leaped over the body and ran, skidding in the ichor on his boots, praying he had the turns right. But now he could feel them, the opposite of the dark pit. Feel the three shining minds, joined in miracle and Light, shielding the others. He rounded the last corner just as the ship groaned and shuddered, slamming him sideways against the sticky wall as waves rippled through its flesh, knocking him down. He clawed his way up and stumbled for the shield, sliding into touch, sword going up to join the others tip to tip and hold it strong, invulnerable, as the Hive disintegrated around them in a soundless conflagration.

Then there was only the glowing blue sphere of the shield, drifting in space, not even debris left of the Hive. They bent their collective wills and guided it down to the planet, the four of them joined like the heart of a spectral dandelion. Around them the Athosians floated wide-eyed with wonder, and the rescued humans from the feeding-cells curled in fetal balls, or clutched each other in shock. Teyla brought them back to the shores of the lake, and when they were once more on solid ground, she said, "It is done," and they stepped back, and broke the link.

"That was pretty cool," Ronon said. "This Guardian thing rocks."

**

John thought Halling made an impressive Guardian. He hadn't known Halling very long, but he was tall and kind of stately, and he was into spiritual stuff anyway, so that worked. John, Mer and Teyla had done the honors again, tapping into the ZPM for his induction, and Halling had gotten wisdom and empathy as his superpowers, although he was no slouch with the bantos either and could hold his own in a fight with dark creatures.

After enlisting Ronon, John had figured to Hell with the IOA's rules about recruitment. They were in another damn galaxy and the mortals in Pegasus were so harried by the Wraith that the ranks of Guardians had been badly depleted. Besides, Teyla had decided to join the team, which was great, but she wasn't going to leave her people undefended. Halling would look after them while John and his team set off to find the Celestial City, which probably a big damn myth, but they could still have a ball exploring, and kick some Wraith ass.

It hadn't been hard to retrieve the Portal. They all flew up to the mountain-top and carried it down between the four of them, Halling following with the DHD. The Athosians visibly relaxed once they'd set the Ring—as they called it here—back in its proper place again, and even the still-traumatized refugees from the Hive seemed happier. There was a feast, with ruus wine, and although John didn't eat or drink these days, it was a fun time. He got to dance with Mer, which was always a hoot—the slinkier John got the more Mer broke out his hilarious dirty dancing moves. Halling looked mildly scandalized, but new Guardians always stood on ceremony for a while—not everyone was a natural like Ronon, and Halling'd settle down in a few centuries.

When it was time for them to leave there were tearful farewells with the Athosians and a great deal of forehead-pressing, which was okay, although John caught Ronon peering down a few cleavages and had to give him a team-leaderish glare. Ronon just grinned.

Mer went to the DHD, which had gotten completely covered in snow up in the mountains. He'd checked it over after Halling toted it back down, gripping the pedestal and tuning into the crystals, and had pronounced it none the worse for having been on ice for several weeks. Those things were built to last, of course, like the Portals themselves, being part of the old Treaty, allowing equal passage to creatures from both sides of the conflict. The H didn't always mean Heaven, of course. You could connect to your destination through Hell if you were so minded, although why you'd want to travel through a wormhole filled with the screams of the damned, John had no idea.

Before Mer could dial out, the Portal activated spontaneously. "Incoming wormhole!" Mer yelled, and the mortals all scurried back, leaving the five Guardians ranged around the stone platform just out of plume range, weapons drawn.

"Hey there," said a familiar voice, once the shimmering disc had settled. A glowing vision of O'Neill appeared, hovering in mid-air. "There you are, Sheppard, McKay, Ms. Emmagan." He nodded at the others. "See you've been doing some recruiting."

"Yes, sir," John replied, drawing himself up straighter. "Couple of field promotions due to . . . local exigencies. Ah, sorry we haven't checked in for a while. Been kind of busy since we got here."

"Yeah," O'Neill said, raising an eyebrow. "Heard you met the Wraith. Nasty critters. Good going with that Hive ship."

"Thank you, sir. It was a team effort. Glad to hear you already have the details."

O'Neill grinned. "Nice try, but you're not wriggling out of the paperwork, Sheppard—you know the IOA. I'm gonna need all your AAARs on my desk by the end of the week. Plus the recruitment papers for these two." He nodded at Ronon and Halling.

John grimaced. "Yes, sir."

Mer stepped forward. "Is Daniel Jackson unascended at the moment?"

O'Neill pretended to consult a watch. "Let's see. Is there an 'r' in the month? That'd be a no, then."

"Oh. Well if he gets in touch, can you ask him to send me his latest research on the Celestial City? I've discovered some local legends here, so his theories that the City might be in the Pegasus galaxy are probably correct."

"Gee, thanks McKay," O'Neill said, looking exasperated. "It's hard enough keeping him from hopping on over to Pegasus as it is." John sympathized, but the mess hall were probably already making O'Neill's favorite deep-dish pie.

"All right, kids. You be careful out there. Let's not accidentally start Armageddon or Ragnarok, or whatever."

"No, sir, we'll try not to." John gave him a slightly sloppy salute, and O'Neill rolled his eyes, waved, and vanished. The wormhole stayed open, and a few seconds later a cardboard box tumbled through and rolled down the ramp, coming to a stop at John's feet.

The Portal shut off, and John crouched down and opened the box.

"Oh no," Mer said apprehensively. "Is that . . .?"

"Yeah," John sighed. "AAARs, Induction papers, Personnel Inventories, NDAs, the works." He straightened, tucking the box under one arm. "Dial us out, Mer."

Mer punched in the symbols for Dagan, where there'd been a brotherhood who might know something about the City. John looked over at Ronon, standing on the other side of the ramp idly watching Mer dial. "Hey, big guy, mind toting this for me?" He hefted the box and Ronon nodded and holstered his blaster to free his hands.

John glanced at Mer surreptitiously, wanting to time his throw just right. Feigning innocence, he waited for the kawoosh.

**

the end

**

 


End file.
